We All Do Silly Things
by darthsydious
Summary: For Luvbird28 who requested Molly doing silly things due to jealousy over Sherlock getting on with a new pathologist. Naturally it leads to Sherlock confessing how he truly feels. Also fluffy bits. And a whole lotta kissing. Sherlolly.
Sherlock knew well enough by now when something was wrong, especially if he was to blame. Of course it wasn't always that he could discern what he'd done wrong, but the fact that he could see Molly was clearly upset, and upset with him, was progress.

"You're angry with me."

The statement was met with silence.

 _Oh dear._

Getting to his feet, he shoved his hands into his pockets as he sidled into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry,"

She turned, seeing him hanging his head, clearly sorry, but for _what?_

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, the tightness in her voice was unavoidably clear.

"I- don't know…" he said, leaning against the door frame. "But as you have not spoken to me since we got back, I imagine it must be my fault, and…I am sorry, for whatever it was I did." Sherlock _was_ sorry. However, he felt he was owed an apology as well. "Now," he said, stepping further into the kitchen. "Would you like to tell me why you flung your dessert at me in the cafeteria?"

"I did not fling it at you," Molly replied, a bite in her voice, though the touch of amusement did not go unnoticed by him. "It…slipped out of my hands."

"Directly onto me," Sherlock added, annoyed. "I had to go home and change."

"You did not, you came here and took your spare button-down you always leave here," she retorted, annoyed.

"Well, then, shall we move on to this afternoon's events?"

Molly shut her eyes with a groan, hating herself for her childish outburst that afternoon.

" _Where are my clamps?" the new, younger, decidedly female, decidedly bloody model-like pathologist, searched the table for her tools. Sherlock, standing back from the table, made a show of turning this way and that._

" _I don't see them."_

" _They were just here, I could have sworn…"_

" _Never mind. The results aren't important today. Text me when you get them."_

" _I will," the new pathologist had a dazzling smile. Molly feared for the buttons of her labcoat, if the bloody woman drew a deeper breath they were in danger of popping off and landing in the poor cadaver._

 _Sherlock, seeing Molly hovering by the door, turned to face her. "Have you seen Doctor Matthew's clamps, Doctor Hooper?"_

 _Immediately, Molly knew that Sherlock was perfectly aware of what she'd done. Red in the face, she shifted._

" _I think I saw a set of clamps in the freezer, between the John and Jane Doe livers," she said._

 _Doctor Matthews disappeared into the cold storage, reappearing, holding the clamps with the tips of her fingers. "Isn't that funny?" she marveled. "How did they get in there?"_

" _How indeed," Sherlock agreed, quirking an eyebrow, studying Molly intently._

 _Arms folded across her middle, she again shifted her gaze, looking uncomfortable. "Keep an eye on your tools, Matthews, don't lose them again." With that she marched back to her office to dig up the box of truffles Mycroft made her hide in her office to keep him from eating them._

Molly shook off the memory. "Oh as if you've never hidden my tools on me!" she snapped.

He straightened, surprised at her outburst.

"Perhaps I should go, the experiment can wait," he suggested.

"No," as quickly as she had lashed out, she reached for him as he passed. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, it isn't your fault, not really. I'm just being silly, silly and stupid."

"You are hardly silly, and never, never stupid," he said, quite firmly, causing her to look up at him in surprise. At the sound of the kettle whistling he left her side to unplug it, taking down their usual mugs. "What's the matter, or would you rather not talk about it?"

"It's not really my business to be upset," she said finally. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "Anyway of course you should get on with another pathologist," she went on, louder this time. It was a trait he had come to recognize as her way of putting off her feelings. When she was uncomfortable, her tone was forced, as if the increase of volume made her sound happier. "And Ellen is very pretty, I'm sure she was a great help to you on your case. Honestly I'm sure it's a blessing in disguise, really, it'll free up my time a lot more, and…and…"

"And?" he parroted, prompting.

"Oh I don't know!" Molly snapped, angry again. "Just…give me my tea," she reached for her mug, but he held it away from her. "Sherlock!"

"You're jealous of my going to another pathologist?" he asked, realizing.

Molly shifted uncomfortably, finally looking up at him. "Yes. There, are you happy?"

"No," he shook his head, and set the cups aside. "Not until you let me explain."

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Sherlock, it's your private life. We both know we made a decision long ago, of course it wasn't ever spelled out, but I guess we're better as friends or…whatever we are right now-"

" _Molly,"_

She stopped talking, for which Sherlock was grateful. He sighed a little, still amused. Molly Hooper was rarely jealous, and he found himself terribly pleased at this turn of events.

"Ellen is Stamford's niece, she's performing her residency at St. Bart's before transferring to The London. She was all thumbs today and Stamford called in a favor, apparently I owe a good deal of them to him. He was asking me to…" he grimaced slightly, rolling his eyes. "Be _nice_ to her. You know, talk her up."

Molly stared at him, mouth open and wide-eyed. "You're not…seeing her?"

Sherlock's gaze softened, and his mouth quirked into an amused smile. "No, Molly, I am not. I don't want to 'date her', nor anyone else for that matter, who is not you."

"Me?" she asked, clearly disbelieving.

He stepped closer to her so they were chest-to-chest. "You."

"Why?"

His blue-green eyes were shining at her and his gentle smile reached the corners of his eyes. He drew a breath, "Because I love you." Was the (hardly) simple reply. It was the easiest way for him to convey to her that she was so much more to him than what she had ever believed.

That was all he said, and the months and months of bottled emotions suddenly uncorked like a champagne bottle. He meant to only kiss her briefly. Just a chaste, lovely, gentle kiss as he had always imagined their first kiss ought to be. And it had started out as such. But one thing led to another, and suddenly his arms were around her waist, fingers digging into the fleshy part of her hips (he thought he'd kept them firmly in his pockets once the tea was set down) and hers had found their way around his neck, her fingers gliding through his curls, gently scraping her nails against his scalp in a delightful way. All the world slowed, his non-stop brain slowed to a gentle pulse and Sherlock didn't know what he'd been buggering about, putting aside his feelings for Molly for the past ten years, God he could have been _kissing_ her all this time! Kissing and holding and–

"Ahem."

Someone coughed, and Molly and Sherlock both turned with a start, flushed and mussed. Mike Stamford stood at the door, holding a file, looking terribly cheeky.

"Molly, I just wanted to drop off the post-mortem my niece completed, I want you to go over it, make sure she didn't miss anything. Tomorrow, maybe you can walk her through Mrs. Caraway's autopsy, she could use a gentle reminder here and there, what with her being new."

Molly tugged at her blouse, suddenly realizing it was hiked up around her waist (good _grief_ , Sherlock). "I take it Sherlock's assistance in the morgue today was not satisfactory?"

"I thought it might do her some good," Mike shrugged. "You know, famous consulting detective praising her skills. Apparently she didn't take kindly to him hovering over her shoulder the entire time, made her nervous. She had to cut open poor Mr. McCredie twice, she lost a knife and forgot a sponge in him, thanks to your boyfriend."

Sherlock's mouth twisted in a way that Molly just knew he was trying to hide a smirk. She elbowed him in the ribs, not taking her eyes off her boss.

"Sorry about that, Mike, yes, I can come in tomorrow, noon alright?"

"Sure," he nodded. He glanced between them, clearly studying them, then shook his head, smiling at his shoes. "About time you two saw sense," he held up the file, setting it on the table where she would see it before making his hasty exit. "Ta, Molly, see you tomorrow." With that he was gone, whistling down the hallway and out the building.

Molly tucked her shirt in, still blushing. She went to the counter, poured out the now cold tea and put the kettle on again.

"Don't bother," Sherlock said, coming to stand behind her. He slipped his arms about her, drawing her against him as he bent and kissed her neck. "I don't want tea anymore."

"I want tea," she insisted, though she did not push him away, so he was more than happy to continue.

"Very well," he sighed. "Go on, tell me more about how you were jealous of me."

"You-!" she pushed against him then, trying not to laugh. "The last thing you need is to have your ego fed."

"I'm rather touched you were so jealous," he said. "But I will say this: it's about time you got a taste of your own medicine."

"What?" Molly looked up at him, surprised.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. He held up a hand, counting on his fingers: "Tom, 'Jim from IT', that sloppy mobile salesman, Jeff from accounting, Phillip from that bizarre juice cleansing shop-"

"Janine, Irene Adler-" Molly interjected, nose in the air, to which Sherlock bent and kissed her, hoping to convey just how much Molly meant to him.

"I'll have you know," he said, somewhat breathless, when they parted at last. "I never kissed either of them like that, and I never will."

"You better not," Molly replied, breathless before he captured her mouth with his again.

Needless to say, Molly once again forgot she was making tea, but she really couldn't be bothered to care.


End file.
